


07:36

by culticmyexecution



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, First Meetings, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-30
Updated: 2017-03-30
Packaged: 2018-10-12 18:42:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10497198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/culticmyexecution/pseuds/culticmyexecution
Summary: Johnny sometimes sees a boy in the train on his way to school, never trying to speak to him. This lasts for some time, but things tend to change.





	

    It's been three years, Johnny thinks. Which is somewhat ridiculous, if you think about it. For three years he's been taking the 0736 train to school with some exceptions like lessons being cancelled or the schedule being arranged in such a way he would sleep a little bit more one or two days a week.

    Three years ago, he saw the boy for the first time. His hands at first, actually. Johnny entered the train and hurried to take a spare sit, with his new bag in his hands and his headphones on. Looking at his shoes and thinking what his new classmates would be like, he a couple stations later raised his head and saw the delicate small hand holding a mechanical pencil and moving here and there above the sketchbook. A second later — just before Johnny could process what had been being drawn — the hand turned the sketchbook over, fidgeting the rubber end of the pencil. Johnny looked up. The boy of his age in front of him was looking away, pretending not to see him, earphones in. It continued until there came Johnny's station.

    The next day, he saw the boy again. Just like the day before, he, standing in the corner that time, was drawing, biting lightly on his lower lip in concentration.

    The boy was beautiful, so that Johnny wouldn't sometimes be able to look away. The soft lines of his face occasionally made Johnny want to brush it with his fingertips just to assure it was real; he wished he could draw at least somehow to be capable of capturing that face. Of taking a photo he wouldn't even dare think. Most of the time the boy was looking down at his sketchbook, except for short moments to glance at a person or a thing he wanted to draw. Sometimes he would read a book, or revise from his notebook, or play an old PSP, or just sleep.

    They did not meet every day — the most was four times a week when the first lessons on Mondays and Thursdays got cancelled.

    Johnny knew his name somehow, probably from one of the math notebooks, which Ten — apparently, the moniker — spent much time reading, frowning every now and then.

    Sometimes they met in the evenings on the train back, but it happened rarely.

    He remembers seeing Ten crying on one of such occasions, tearing the pages out of the sketchbook, not every but only some. Johnny felt ashamed for looking at Ten like that, so he lowered his gaze to his hands just to see as they froze before tearing yet another sheet — on which there was Johnny's face, probably the one that had been drawn half a year prior to that. They looked up simultaneously, and Johnny gave Ten a careful small smile, hoping it would console the boy a bit. He smiled back.

    The days went by after that. Sometimes Johnny would see Ten sad — which changed slightly when he would see Johnny taking a seat or standing somewhere at the opposite side of the train. Some days Ten would be happy, busy with drawing, or just listening to music. Sometimes he would type something on his phone, or just stare at the screen.

    Johnny did not know why of all people around him he noticed Ten — because probably most of the people that took 0736 were the same every day.

    He would note what book the boy was reading and smile to himself, as it sometimes would be one he had wanted to read or had already read and liked.

    He would find it conciliating to see Ten one day, while being nervous about the upcoming tests, as it showed that no matter what — his world would not be shuttered.

    However, today is the day it will be.

    Johnny tugs at the belt of his now old bag, looking at Ten once again, like many days before that. It is different, Johnny says to himself. It is the last one.

    It is devastating a bit, to understand such things when you graduate high school. That nothing lasts forever.

    Yet it is probably ridiculous, he says to himself, to be sad about not seeing a random boy at a morning train anymore. Not to see him sketching everything and everyone around him. Not to see him smiling, or sleeping, or being sad even; not to be able to give a reassuring smile — considering that a stranger's smile can be reassuring.

    Ten has grown up, as Johnny can judge by seeing a sitting figure, and not only his height. He for sure has changed also, Johnny thinks, just like his friends, and just like he has, in these years.

    Seeing him in the morning light will be something Johnny will miss. Twenty minutes of the road, just glancing at the boy that he doesn't even know — he will miss it.

    He doesn't know whether or not he will go to another city or to a local college — but he will for sure have to go by a different route. The thought, as stupid as it may be, leaves empty space somewhere inside him.

    He doesn't know if he wants to know Ten personally, and he's never built any theories about what the life of the boy might be like. Just looking at him while commuting was enough to grow on him somehow.

    It is the station prior to the one Johnny needs, and he sighs, and closes his eyes, no headphones on today, just listening to the sounds of the train. He would like this moment to last longer, but he knows it can't be achieved.

    The train stops, and Johnny opens his eyes and stands up. To his surprise, Ten does the same, holding out to Johnny his old sketchbook. Johnny sees himself in soft lines and looks at Ten in amazement. He feels the moment to be eternal.

    “Hi… I'm Ten,” the boy smiles.

    The doors close, and the train moves.

    “I know.”


End file.
